all that we wouldn't say
by LBx
Summary: Love lost, love found. A collection of Terrorist drabbles & oneshots.
1. drabble: Miyagi & Risako's wedding

**i. **

Takatsuki Shinobu realizes he is sulking. He stares sullenly at the happy crowd – various relatives, some neighbours, friends of his sister – and tries not to listen to the pleasant chatter. 'How beautiful Risako looked' comments one aunt, and another murmurs her agreement, 'what a handsome couple'. There's a chink of glasses. Laughter.

It's not that Shinobu blames his sister. No, if he blames anyone it's his new brother-in-law Miyagi Yoh. The man gave him hope, only to viciously yank it away. It was humiliating; and the worst part is that Shinobu can't stop himself from loving the older man. He can't stop his breath from catching when Miyagi smiles, or noticing the strong lines of his jaw, the size of Miyagi's large hands. It's selfish, but as he watches the newlyweds he thinks, just briefly, how happy he would be if they divorced tomorrow.

"Shinobu?" His father clamps a hand on his shoulder, "You haven't congratulated your sister and brother yet, have you?"

"Yes, Shinobu. Remember your manners," chimes in his mother, getting Risako and Miyagi's attention. There's more idle chatter as the couple approaches. Shinobu feels self-conscious – feels like everyone will discover his secret, that Miyagi will _know_ and that he'll ruin his sister's happiness.

'I'm a fool,' Shinobu thinks, 'and yet I- I-'

He breaks away from his father's grip, chokes back his tears and manoeuvres his way out of the room. His parents call after him but he melts to the edges of the room and vanishes into the garden. He doesn't want to cry, not here and not now, but he can already feel his cheeks dampening against his will.

Shinobu leans against the wall, buries his face in his hands and wishes he could forget Miyagi.


	2. drabble: on feeling inadequate

_A/N: written for the LJ kink-meme prompt "mirror sex"._

**ii.**

No matter how much he loved his boyfriend, Shinobu couldn't get past the embarrassment of having sex. It always left him feeling inadequate. Miyagi was so much older, and so much more experienced, and Shinobu hated how he always became a quivering mess in the man's arms. He didn't want to cry every time, and he certainly didn't like the blush that always painted his face.

So when he walked into the hotel room and realized the entire ceiling was plastered with mirrors, Shinobu felt his stomach give an unhappy lurch. Miyagi was already loosening his tie; it would only be a matter of minutes until he pinned Shinobu to the bed. The thought of lying there, of seeing his pleading, gasping red face, was embarrassing enough without it actually happening. Miyagi must have sensed something was wrong, because he stopped and gave Shinobu a concerned look. It wasn't that Shinobu was having second thoughts – after all, Miyagi had paid a lot for the room, not to mention the time off work – but he just … had to make Miyagi bottom, somehow.

"What are you waiting for?" Shinobu forced out. He wouldn't let Miyagi see his nerves. As calmly as possible, he pulled off his sweater and unbuttoned his shirt. Miyagi was still eyeing him cautiously, but he followed his lover's lead. _Shirt, pants, socks, underwear_, Shinobu chanted silently. Their clothes now pooled on the floor, he ordered Miyagi to sit on the bed, took a deep breath and leaned in to press his lover against the sheets. Miyagi cupped his face, surprisingly gentle, and Shinobu felt his determination waver.

"Do whatever you're comfortable with, Shinobu."

It made him speechless, how easily Miyagi could see through him. Leaning forward, he brought their lips together, felt Miyagi's hand sliding along the length of his spine, and wondered if it was possible to love the man even more than he already did.


	3. drabble: fate

**iii.  
**

Fate must be laughing at Miyagi Yoh.

He had never wanted to fall in love again. Love was fragile and painful, and once he gave it away it would persevere even past death. Even though he understood that he had to move on from the past, that didn't mean he had to love sensei any less. So he threw all his passion into his work; it was sensei's legacy, after all. He was doing what she never could, and he carried out his professorship with an admirable dedication. His research won him national acclaim. Miyagi would dedicate his life to literature, and would live without the hardships of the emotion called 'love'.

It might have worked if not for Shinobu. Miyagi neither expected nor wanted to fall in love with the boy. A pushy, loud-mouthed brat who didn't care about the walls Miyagi had built, forcing his way into Miyagi's life without an invitation. His defences weren't as good as he thought, and although Miyagi couldn't pinpoint when exactly Shinobu had stolen his heart, it had happened.

Perhaps this was sensei's revenge. Somewhere, she must be laughing at him. 'Once divorced', 'too old'; hadn't they been the same words she'd thrown at him all those years ago? He could almost hear her voice, the laughter as she exclaimed, 'how do you like it, Miyagi?' while he fumbled through the motions of falling in love with a high school boy (his ex-wife's brother, his boss' _son_).

There were so many ways that his little terrorist could detonate and blast Miyagi's carefully constructed life to pieces. What scared him was that he didn't care. His life of solitude, the job he loved and the reputation he'd earned; none of it mattered anymore if he couldn't be with Shinobu.

'I love you. This is fate,' Shinobu had insisted. Miyagi found he could no longer disagree.


	4. drabble: our happy ending

_A/N: written for the LJ kink-meme prompt "Miyagi goes all the way with Shinobu". Based on volume 7._

**iv.**

Confessing his love to Shinobu had been liberating. Holding Shinobu's hand high, seeing the boy's wide eyes brimming with tears, he'd known that this was the right path. Yet despite the blunt honesty of his confession, Shinobu was still trying to run away. It was as if Shinobu was so happy, he couldn't accept that it was true. Even after Miyagi had sworn his love on sensei's grave, the boy was still making excuses.

_I don't want you to be sensei_, Miyagi thought as he pinned Shinobu's thin wrists to the sheets. What Miyagi had shared with his teacher was done, a part of his past he could never reclaim. This wasn't a matter of Shinobu being better than sensei, or worse yet, of Miyagi pitying the boy. He loved Shinobu because he was _Shinobu_.

Beneath him Shinobu rolled over, burying his face in the pillow to muffle his cries. Miyagi ran a palm over his spine, felt each bump under the skin, then let his hand trail down to the back of the boy's thighs. Shinobu stiffened and Miyagi thought he heard his name moaned into the pillow. 'This is probably going to hurt', he informed Shinobu and the boy nodded weakly. They had been here before – sprawled on Miyagi's bed and dangerously close to taking things a step too far. No matter how much Shinobu had begged for it at the time, Miyagi could never regret stopping things that night. Their story might have had a different ending, one where Shinobu went back to Australia and Miyagi lived with an all-consuming guilt.

They wouldn't have been happy.

He pressed a finger against Shinobu's opening, watched each twitch of the boy's muscles as he pushed inside. It was all he could do to prepare the boy, realizing he didn't have much patience left. Neither did Shinobu apparently, as he released the pillow, rolled onto his side and (blushing a furious shade of red) demanded Miyagi satisfy him _now_. Miyagi smirked, pressed his mouth against the boy's hip and let his tongue lick the damp skin. Shinobu shuddered under him, moaned when Miyagi's hand groped between his legs, and let out a string of pleas punctuated with a cry of "stupid Miyagi!"

Pressing the boy onto his back, Miyagi pushed his way into the slender body; Shinobu's hands curled in the blankets, his feet coming around behind Miyagi's waist. He could feel the boy's muscles constricting around him. It was an amazing sensation, and he thought, fleetingly, that maybe _now_ he could impress his feelings upon Shinobu. Make the boy realize that he wasn't playing games.

"I – love you. Miyagi." Even with his eyes closed and tears streaming down his cheeks, Shinobu's words echoed pleasantly in the room. Miyagi smiled, brought their bodies closer together and kissed Shinobu's forehead.

"I know."

_I love you too._


	5. oneshot: perfecting 'give and take'

_A/N: Written for the kink-meme prompt "more sex involving Shinobu"._

**v.**

Miyagi had learned early on not to interfere with Shinobu's perfectionist tendencies. If it was another countless cabbage stir fry, he would eat it without complaint. If Shinobu shrunk his shirts in the laundry, he would go out and buy more. It was better to encourage the teen, make casual suggestions but never outright complain about his efforts.

This philosophy had its rewards. Hitherto, Shinobu had been naturally forced into the passive role when it came to having sex. As his insecurities were chipped away at, however, his desire to please Miyagi began to overflow into their sex life. At first it had been hesitant touches, unsteady hands reaching up to tweak a nipple, but he gradually became bolder with Miyagi's reassurances to spur him on. They'd begun to have sex more frequently, and Miyagi noted with wry amusement that Shinobu was approaching the task with the same persistence he did cooking or cleaning. He was left with very little choice in the matter other than to shake his head and indulge Shinobu; afraid that if he teased too much the wrong word would shatter the other's confidence and land them back at square one.

Besides, Shinobu's newest obsession wasn't unwelcome. Compared with eating cabbage ten times a week, this was definitely an improvement.

"Nngh, careful Shinobu-chin."

"Sorry," came the muffled reply, Shinobu pulling back just long enough to speak. He was kneeling between Miyagi's legs on the couch, one hand pumping unevenly at the base of Miyagi's cock while he fumbled with taking the tip into his mouth. Shinobu's eyes were set with an intense concentration, and if he hadn't been so aroused by the sight, Miyagi would have burst out laughing.

"Take your time," he instructed, idly wondering if he had enough control to allow Shinobu the luxury of time. In the ten minutes since the boy had cornered him on the couch, his patience had been steadily decreasing.

Despite his forwardness, Shinobu's cheeks had turned a pretty shade of pink; it was a wonder he could still appear so focused when he was usually the first to relinquish control. He must have been nearing his limit though, because suddenly he gave one final lick along Miyagi's length and shifted. He crawled forward, his body previously freed of his clothing, and positioned himself.

"M-Miyagi," Shinobu moaned as he slid himself down onto his lover's cock. He shied away when Miyagi tried to bring their gazes together, eyes drawn to an invisible point to his right. "Does this … feel okay?"

Miyagi allowed himself to chuckle. Propping himself up on his elbows, he drew Shinobu down into a kiss. "It feels great," he assured the boy, and even though Shinobu looked unconvinced it _was_ the truth. Laying a steadying hand on Shinobu's hip, he gave a tiny thrust, pleased to see the deepening flush on Shinobu's face.

"S-stop. Let, let me-"

"Shinobu-chin," he broke in, reaching up to draw Shinobu down into another long and distracting kiss. Miyagi felt the boy's resolve crumbling as he gave another thrust, Shinobu's moan matching his own. "I want you to feel good too," he breathed. Shinobu hesitated, then gave a weak nod, biting down on his lower lip when Miyagi's hand wrapped firmly around his cock. A couple strong strokes were all it took to make Shinobu whimper senselessly. Clutching the back of the couch, he tried to move in time to Miyagi's rhythm, eyes squeezed tightly shut and lips separating with short, breathless cries.

In the end they came together, a jumble of ragged breaths and throaty moans. As the pleasurable haze wore off, however, Shinobu began to frown.

"That was …"

"Perfectly fine," Miyagi finished for him. He managed to pull himself off the couch, shaking away the languid desire to stay curled with Shinobu when he recalled that he hadn't finished preparing tomorrow's lesson materials. Lately, he'd begun to slack off more carelessly with his work; distracted, no doubt, by Shinobu's sudden interest in becoming the perfect lover.

Shinobu sat up, brows creasing. "Perfectly fine?" he repeated, mentally turning over the phrase. His unsettled expression deepened. "All right, I see."

It was amazing how pessimistic Shinobu could be at times. Fighting the urge to tell the boy 'perfectly fine' meant 'mind-blowing and amazing', Miyagi scratched at the back of his neck and said casually, "you could join me in the shower". Work be damned, he could sacrifice an hour worth of sleep and still get his lesson in order. He'd given the same lecture every year, after all.

It didn't take long for Shinobu to weigh the prospect. "What are you waiting for?" he huffed, retrieving his clothes and stalking past Miyagi to the washroom. His attitude had all the telltale signs of his bluffs, but Miyagi just shook his head. He knew well enough that Shinobu would never settle for second best.


	6. drabble: realization of love

**vi.**

When Shinobu packed up his book bag that Sunday morning, he hadn't expected to find love. There was nothing special about the day; he ate the usual piece of burnt toast for breakfast, avoided running into his parents, and slipped out early to spend the day at the library. It wasn't busy first thing in the morning, and a quick scan of the floor showed only a couple people browsing the stacks.

Except his eye caught on a familiar dark head. Adjusting the hold he had on his bag, Shinobu walked calmly past the table littered with old books. There wasn't anything he was interested in at this end of the building, but he positioned himself in front of the reference section, absently skimming through the public dictionary and casting a glance over his shoulder.

It was _him_.

The books the man was reading had a thin layer of dust on them, obviously pulled from some ancient corner of the library. There were an unusually large number of them, too. He must have been staking out the table for the day, because he'd spread the piles over the tabletop and slung his briefcase into the neighbouring chair.

The man bothered Shinobu. He turned back to the dictionary, restless, and blindly flipped the page.

Every Sunday, always the same table, with the same type of dusty volumes. Didn't he have anything else to do, somewhere else to go? The man wasn't _that_ old, but he wasn't that young, either. He must not have any family, but no friends either? It was … _weird_.

Fully intending to send a scowl at the oblivious man, Shinobu turned – turned and felt his breath catch and heart stop. It wasn't love at first sight but it was just as cliché, because suddenly Shinobu was aware of the man's warm smile and gentle eyes. Aware of the careful way he turned the book's pages, and how _large_ his hands were. Swallowing hard and feeling heat creeping up his cheeks, Shinobu spun away fast. His only thought was to get away from public scrutiny, and he hurried into the stacks, stealing another look only when he was sure the man wouldn't notice his stares.

He wasn't that bad looking either, Shinobu realized once he'd gotten a good look. His earlier assessment had been right: not that young, but not that old, with just the first signs of age visible. Mature, his mind supplied defiantly. Curling his fingers around the edge of the shelf, Shinobu leaned back until the book spines were digging into his spine and the lights overheard blurred in his vision. What was he suppose to do? He didn't have a reason to talk to the man; there were plenty of empty tables still, and it wasn't like he was interested in any of the books the man was reading.

'I can't do anything right now,' Shinobu rationalized, wetting his dry lips and trying not to panic. 'I need to wait. I need to wait for an opening, a sign. Something.' There was no need to rush. After all, the man was here every week.

Mind made up, Shinobu stole one last look over at the man and slipped away into the stacks.

The sign he was waiting on would come two weeks later; and with it, his entire world came crashing down.


	7. drabble: favourite things

**vii.**

If Shinobu had known that all it took to loosen Miyagi up was a few drinks, he would have gotten him drunk sooner. For once, the older man isn't prattling on about _society_ and _status_, even though this entire night has been about exactly that. Japan's most noted literary scholars are downstairs, no doubt wondering where Miyagi has disappeared to; after all, his latest research on Bashou just won him an award. He should be out celebrating with his colleagues, letting Shinobu's father congratulate him more, but instead he'd all but dragged Shinobu up to his hotel room, locked the door and pushed Shinobu onto the bed without a second thought.

"I thought you liked your job, your _reputation_," Shinobu points out between kisses, letting his hands slide down Miyagi's shoulders. "You didn't even want me to _come_."

"I decided I like you more," Miyagi whispers, fierce and _intent_, working at the buttons of Shinobu's shirt. Shinobu has half a mind to tell Miyagi how clichéd that response is, but the words slip away when he's kissed again. He's certainly not going to protest this sudden turn of events. The morning is the time for excuses – to explain to his father why he didn't return to their room, how he accidentally fell asleep in Miyagi's spare bed after having too many drinks himself. Nobody has to know and nobody will care. Miyagi wants him, and for Shinobu that's all that matters.


	8. drabble: holding on

**viii.**

Even after they've whispered 'good night', Miyagi can't stop thinking about Shinobu. He lies perfectly still and stares at the ceiling, listening to the soft utterances of Shinobu's breathing. In the past days – in the past months – Miyagi has become so aware of Shinobu, it seems impossible now that he spent three years barely aware of the younger man's presence. Now he catches each glance Shinobu shoots his way and worse yet, finds himself responding before he can stop and _think_.

Miyagi realizes he's clinging; understands that he may need Shinobu more than Shinobu needs him. That he can no longer imagine life without Shinobu is terrifying, but he can't turn away from the impending heartache because Miyagi is the one caught in Shinobu's orbit.

He knows exactly what Shinobu would say if he ever realized Miyagi's thoughts. He can already feel that accusatory glare, hear the soft whine of _'you promised to stop worrying; you promised to stop questioning my love; you promised; you promised …'_ Miyagi's doubts are his own personal demons and Shinobu, for all his love and want, could never understand them.

The mattress creaks when Shinobu shifts, but he goes on sleeping, the rhythm of his breathing unbroken. Miyagi reaches out and grasps Shinobu's hand beneath the covers.

Reaches out, and clings.


	9. drabble: being in love

_A/N: Written for the song-drabble meme on LJ, to Round Table's "Koi wo Shiteru"._

**ix.**

When Shinobu walks out of the university and sees Miyagi waiting for him, it's as if his entire world brightens. Forgetting the girl pawing at his arm, he quickens his pace – faster and faster – until he's nearly running, Miyagi's amused smile the light at the end of a long tunnel.

"I'm not going any where Shinobu-chin," the other man teases lightly, dropping his cigarette on the ground and snuffing it out with his foot.

"I know, I know, I wanted to see you," Shinobu explains, grabs Miyagi's sleeve and starts to drag him down the street. It doesn't matter if the entire world is watching them; Shinobu wants them to look – wants them to understand how in love he is with Miyagi.


	10. drabble: happiness

_A/N: Three years later, an update appears!_

**x.**

It's an anxious contentment, Shinobu thinks as he towel-dries his hair. They're in completely uncharted territory now and he never knows what Miyagi is thinking, what his own attitude and behaviour should be. Neglecting to tell Miyagi about his birthday was an unconscious decision. Shinobu doesn't want to impose. No matter how much he wants Miyagi to look at him, it will be his own hard work and not obligation that wins him the other man's affections.

Yet when Miyagi said "happy birthday", all Shinobu's protests were consumed by an overwhelming happiness. He can still feel the heat creeping up into his cheeks; the lingering sensation of Miyagi trailing kisses across his jaw line. And when Miyagi touched him, it was slow and gentle – everything he'd ever wanted.

Perhaps it's too simple. But being able to lie curled against Miyagi's body, to feel Miyagi's fingers threading warmly through his hair … that's all Shinobu needs to be happy.

There's a clatter from the kitchen. Shinobu lets the towel fall around his shoulders, biting his lip. Anxiety comes rushing back all too quickly as he steps out of the washroom and into the main area of Miyagi's apartment. But any fear quickly recedes. The sushi Miyagi insisted on ordering is spread over the kitchen table, colourful candles sticking out from the centers at odd angles. Shinobu feels his eyes widen as he tries to bite back the shocked "wha-?" that escapes as he draws closer.

Miyagi starts. He's bent over the one tray, lighter in hand. When he catches sight of Shinobu, he rises awkwardly and scratches at the back of his head. "Ah, Shinobu-chin, already done washing?"

Miyagi isn't meeting his eyes. Shinobu stands staring at the candles, confused and overwhelmed. "Miyagi, what is-?"

"A-ahaha," Miyagi starts, waving his hands wildly. "It's your birthday right? So you should have candles." There's a long pause, and Miyagi shuffles his feet. "Maybe it was a bit too much."

Shinobu opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again and then settles on shaking his head. "N-no. Miyagi. It's." Before he knows it he's crying, tears slipping out before he can say any more. Miyagi quietly hands him a tissue. Then he just stands close and keeps a comforting hand on Shinobu's shoulder until the tears subside.

"Thank you," Shinobu whispers when he can speak again.

Miyagi gives his shoulder a squeeze and smiles. "Let's eat."


End file.
